TYLER WODEN | FICTION | RIFTWALKERS #2 | FRACTURED REALMS: PART 3 & 4| RAINBOW SALAD

Riftwalkers #2

Fractured Realms: Parts Three & Four

Contents (For Your Clicking Convenience)

Riftwalkers #1 — Prologue & Part One: The Mansion & Part Two: The Realm Of Eternal Dusk

Riftwalkers #2 — Part Three: Fenomet & Part Four: The Oracle’s Choice

Riftwalkers #3 — Part Five: The Horned Child

Riftwalkers #4 — Part Six: The Riftwalker’s Ultimatum

Please…enjoy.

~TW~

PART THREE — FENOMET

MAXIMILLIAN

The dark fireball hurtled closer, its chaotic energy crackling and swirling around it like a malevolent cyclone. Maximilian and Gandrad stood frozen for a fraction of a second, the gravity of the situation sinking in. There was no time for elaborate incantations or intricate spells.

Gandrad, his eyes flashing with determination, raised his staff high above his head. The glowing runes etched into the wood sparked with newfound intensity. ‘Hold on to the staff,’ he shouted to Maximilian above the deafening roar of the imminent fireball.

The moment lengthened as Maximillian somehow found himself with time enough to grip the staff, the wood cool against his palms. Maximillian squinted at the immense energy that was about to engulf them.

Gandrad frowned deeply, a bead of sweat glistening on his wrinkled forehead. With a swift, fluid motion, the master wizard swung his staff downward, channeling his magic into a shining shield. A translucent barrier, shimmering with iridescent hues, materialised in front of them just as the fireball made an impact.

The collision unleashed a blinding explosion of dark energy, sending shockwaves through the barren landscape. The ground trembled beneath their feet, and the malevolent whispers grew louder, echoing in Maximillian’s ears like a cacophony of torment.

Maximilian felt the full force of the explosion crash against the protective barrier, and for a brief, agonising moment, the world around him became a muffled void. The deafening roar of the fireball’s impact robbed him of his hearing, leaving him with nothing but an eerie silence that seemed to stretch into eternity.

Yet Maximillian could do nothing but watch as his mentor’s magic protected them. He held onto the runed staff as he felt his very blood pulsing with dark energy. ‘It burns!’ screamed Maximillian as the dark fire scorched at his palms and boiled his blood. Though he was certain Gandrad did not hear a word of it.

Maximilian’s senses were still muffled, but he could see everything unfold before his eyes. Gandrad was a figure of unwavering resolve. The lines on his face deepened as he channeled more and more power into the protective barrier. The translucent shield crackled with ethereal energy, holding firm against the relentless assault of the dark fireball.

As Maximilian watched, a strange and unsettling phenomenon occurred. The dark fireball seemed to merge into a face. A face of dark, terrible energy that contorted into a grotesque semblance of consciousness. Its features were ephemeral, shifting and warping like shadows cast by a flickering flame.

Despite its assault on Gandrad’s barrier, the face within the fireball locked eyes with Maximilian. Maximillian’s mouth was held open in terror as the fiery face uttered in a foul tongue reverberating through his very being. The words were incomprehensible, a guttural language that seemed to sear his mind with its alienness. Maximilian’s heart raced as he felt the dread behind that dreadful visage.

Gandrad’s efforts intensified, and the old wizard cried, ‘Let not the Demon ensnare thee, Max. Fight it. It is in your mind.’ Gandrad’s staff emitted a blinding light as he poured more of his magic into the barrier. The clash between his unwavering determination and the dark fireball’s sinister countenance created a surreal tableau, a battle of wills and magic in the heart of the otherworldly abyss.

Maximilian could only watch in awe and terror. He heard Gandrad’s words, but the creature behind the dark fire twisted the entirety of their meaning, forcing Maximillian to his knees.

Maximillian looked up as his burning hands held onto the robe of his mentor. He looked up at the staff. The weapon was the only hope against death as the dark fireball’s face contorted further. Even in its wordless utterances, Maximillian’s body was pushed further by the unstoppable, impossibly heavy force. He feared his body would end up as mush on the ground. No. He knew. The creature had already won.

Maximilian’s vision blurred as he teetered on the precipice of oblivion. The darkness crept upon him, and he felt his very essence unraveling. But just as despair threatened to consume him entirely, a surge of power unlike anything he had ever experienced radiated from Gandrad’s staff.

The master wizard became a beacon of brilliance as he held the staff with his left hand and raised an open right palm. Maximillian watched stupidly as Gandrad’s palm pulsed with an intense, shadowy glow. Gandrad’s eyes blazed for a second, then grew dark with determination as he channeled some dark power. The malevolent face within the fireball recoiled, its vile utterances silenced.

Though still battered and disoriented, Maximilian felt the weight of the oppressive force begin to lift from his body. Yet, as normality began to return, Maximillian was overcome with fatigue, and when sleep took him his body shuddered in shock.

In the dark embrace of spent slumber, Maximillian’s dreadful dream revealed to him but one name: Fenomet.

PART FOUR — THE ORACLE’S CHOICE

SELENE

The pull of the spectral realm had always been a whispering abyss in Selene’s mind, a darkness that tugged at the edges of her consciousness. It had never truly let go of her since that fateful day when Fenomet’s malevolent presence had ensnared her. If not for the others that day, she would have been lost a long time ago.

Now, almost a thousand years later, as Selene stood once more before the ancient mansion, her heart raced with both trepidation and determination. The mansion was much the same as it was a thousand years past, only now it was broken here and there. She saw that the stone holding it all together was fractured in a dozen places, and the building looked at any moment like it could collapse in on itself.

Selene felt Fenomet’s power tugging at her waning spirit as she stepped inside. Every night, the Shadowbinder haunted her dreams. As a giant, snarling wolf that breathed fire, Fenomet chased her through a wood that became more and more barren each night she slept. Selene felt her mind failing. The woods were all burnt, the protection of the trees gone.

‘Long have you haunted my dreams,’ said Selene to the Shadowbinder in her mind, the being that threatened to consume her soul. ‘Long have you been bound in my body, threatening to consume me.’ As Selene walked through the courtyard, she followed the magical signatures of Gandrad and Maximillian. ‘Now, mighty Shadowbinder, I shall feed thee a more suitable victim.’ Selene sniffed at the air, for Fenomet had changed her senses this past millenia. ‘At this night’s end, you shall have him.’

Unlike a millennium ago, the mansion was no longer warded against intruders. No longer guarded by beings of chaos, and so Selene found the tomb quickly. The mist obscuring the tomb was gone, as were the protective inscriptions. ‘I see Gandrad has entered the rift,’ said Selene to the entity close to awakening within her. It stirred inside her, the Shadowbinder, writhing in the pit of her stomach and grasping at her heart.

Selene’s heart raced as she approached the tomb’s wooden door. Her hands trembled slightly as she raised them, her fingers dancing in intricate patterns, weaving spells of power. The door’s ancient arcane seals had been weakened significantly by Gandrad. They began to shimmer with a faint, ominous light, reacting to her magic.

With each incantation, Selene felt a connection to Fenomet’s trapped soul within her, a connection that grew stronger with every passing moment. She could sense its malevolent presence, seething with hatred and hunger for release. It whispered in her mind, promising power and freedom. It wanted her. It wanted her now.

‘Now, Oracle,’ snarled Fenomet,’ now thou shalt surrender thy divine body to me. Now thou shalt be my vessel.’

As Selene reached out to touch the door, her fingers trembling with a mix of fear and resolve, the symbols on the wood seemed to writhe and react to her presence. They pulsed with an ethereal light, almost as if they recognised her. Selene closed her eyes, her breath unsteady, and whispered a word of power.

Before Selene could complete the incantation, a voice echoed through the tomb, a voice she thought she’d never hear again.

‘Selene.’

The voice was commanding and filled with authority, instantly recognisable. ‘General Tiberia,’ said Selene. ‘What a surprise. I thought you dead.’

Yet, when Selene turned, the swordswoman whose courage had been their salvation a thousand years ago stood at the centre of the tomb. Selene’s heart sank at the sight of the sword. ‘I see you still carry that sword.’

Tiberia’s sword gleamed in the eerie light of the tomb. The swordswoman’s eyes bore into Selene, a mixture of concern and determination in her gaze. ‘You cannot do this, Selene,’ she said, her voice unyielding. ‘I won’t allow that demon to possess Gandrad.’

Selene’s mind raced as she tried to find the words to explain, to make Tiberia understand. ‘Tiberia, you don’t know the torment I’ve endured. Fenomet’s grip on me has never waned. The only way to break free is to give him a new host.’

Tiberia grimaced. ‘Him?’ The warrior took a step forward. ‘Can you not hear yourself? Such a thing should never be called a he or she. Fenomet is an it, Selene. And it must be destroyed forever, lest all of us face the consequences.’ Where once Tiberia had possessed two eyes, now she had only one. Her trademark short oak hair had grown long and white, frayed and tired. She was thinner than she once was. General Tiberia held out a gauntleted right hand, letting the sword dangle to her side in her left. ‘We can find another way. Let me help you.’

Selene shook her head. She could hear Fenomet cackling within her, like a wolf scarping a tree. ‘The last tree is about to fall.’

Tiberia frowned. ‘What tree? What are you talking about?’

‘No,’ said Selene, and she released a wave of force at Tiberia, sweeping her from her feet and pushing the warrior into the wall of the tomb with a crack. Selene turned back to her incantation. A moment later, the tomb’s wooden door to the rift unlocked and opened with an otherworldly growl.

Selene sniffed at the opening to the rift. Maximillian was asleep. ‘Now, mighty Fenomet, cursed Shadowbinder, I release you.’ Selene uttered words she had waited to speak for nigh on a thousand years, but now the time was right.

‘Stop!’ cried the approaching Tiberia from behind her. ‘Stop!’

As Selene finished her incantation, she felt the spirit of Fenomet burst free of her. The pain was so surreal that she was disabled from any movement or defence.

‘Do not release the demon!’ shouted Tiberia from close behind her.

Selene saw not through her own eyes but from those of Fenomet. The Chaos Wolf, the Shadowbinder, the demon bound inside her, saw for her as its malevolent spirit soared through the air within the rift.

Through a barren landscape, it flew, not as a wolf, but as a ball of dark flame which consumed all light it touched. Selene watched in terror as the figures of Gandrad and Maximillian treaded the barren lands in search of answers.

The dark fireball soared high into the sky, its target clear.

As Fenomet’s flame raced towards the two wizards and collided with Gandrad’s protective barrier, Selene gasped as her conscience returned to her own body in the tomb.

When Selene looked down, the glowing blade of the Sword of Justice protruded from her chest. She coughed blood and gripped the edge with her hands. She spoke, but the blood choked the words from her. Finally, she managed to say, ‘I’m sorry, Tiberia. I had no choice.’

Selene heard the footsteps before she saw the face. Tiberia stood before her, holding her head. The warrior was bleeding from a deep wound on her forehead. The swordswoman shook her head. ‘No, Selene.’ Tiberia pulled free another sword from her waist. She held it before Selene’s waning vision. Its blade was dark metal. ‘This is Redemption, and it will cleanse your soul.’

Selene spat a mouth of blood onto Tiberia, covering the general’s armour. ‘It is…already done,’ managed Selene.

Tiberia’s shoulders sagged as she sighed and moved her hand from her forehead. Blood flowed freely. The warrior general grasped Redemption in both hands. ‘Farewell, Oracle,’ said Tiberia.

Selene watched as the blade came down in an arc towards her head. Before her mortal conscience faded forever, she heard Fenomet one final time.

‘Embrace the void, Oracle, for I await you in oblivion.’

Are you enjoying what I do here? Then show your support! Clap, comment and share share share!

See you next time

~TW~